New Beginnings
by Meia the Maia
Summary: Sam arrives in the West. Hints of F/S.


A/N: This is the first ficlet in my 'Frodo/Sam in the West' storyline.

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He could not stop staring at his hands, turning them over and then back again, marvelling all the while. Gone were the swollen joints and stiff sinews, gone was the palsy that shook him beyond control, gone were the spots, ridges, and wrinkles that age wrought upon his skin. Instead they were the hands of his youth that had served him -and the other- so faithfully, to the end of all things and back again.

They'd left the veil -if such a fine curtain of mist and time-defying magic could be called a 'veil'- behind some time ago, and he'd looked in wonder at his hands ever since, almost too afraid and hopeful to see if the change affected the rest of him too, but now an elf touched his shoulder. "Perhael," he said, pointing toward their destination, and the hobbit rose to see what the fuss was about.

The green line of shore was much closer now, buildings and other landmarks clearly visible, and a barely discernable crowd gathered at the quay. Sam gulped in apprehension. All the doubts and fears he'd had before setting sail doubled and tripled as he strained to see if there were any shorter figures amongst the crowd.

A large hand patted his shoulder. "Fear not, Master Samwise," Cirdan assured him, scanning the land with his far-seeing eyes. "Both of those you seek are alive, and one eagerly awaits your arrival."

Frodo. It had to be. Unless . . . Ever-worsening scenarios raced through his mind and twisted his stomach in knots, and he had to close his eyes to gain control of himself. By the time he'd opened them again, they were almost there, and he could see a sea of curious Elven faces.

Then the ship was docked and he was making his unsteady way down the plank between two groups of elves -to be sure he didn't fall off and drown, no doubt- but he made it to solid ground without incident.

He couldn't see past the backs of the tall beings in front of him, so he was taken by surprise when the crowd split and he was suddenly and enthusiastically embraced. He hugged the other by reflex, fighting to keep his balance, and he gradually became aware that the other was speaking as he began to withdraw. "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

He couldn't stand to see the worried look on that dear face so he hurried to reply even as he blushed. "N-nay. Just startled me, is all."

Frodo smiled broadly and hugged him again. "You've actually come! I wasn't sure you would."

"It seemed the right time," he answered lamely, not sure what else to say.

Frodo laughed merrily and grasped his elbow to escort him toward the city. "Well, come! Bilbo and Gandalf and the others are anxious to see you. They and all the elves of Elrond's household are preparing quite the feast."

Sam stopped abruptly, and elves streamed around them. "Feast?"

"Yes, you silly hobbit." Frodo said, pulling his arm to get him moving again. "Not only have most of their kin now returned, the last of the Ring-Bearers has come home!"

Sam shook his head in consternation but allowed himself to be led, the elves from the ship following at a respectful distance.

Frodo was silent as he led Sam into the city, allowing him to gawk and gape at his new surroundings without interruption. "It's like Minas Tirith an' Rivendell an' Lothlorien all together," Sam said in awe as they walked along the stone street, trees and buildings blending together on either side so you weren't entirely sure if you were in a forest or a city.

"Yes, there is something of everything here, even the Sea," Frodo replied. As they drew further along, he asked, "Do you need to rest? We're very near where Bilbo and I live here in the city."

"I am feelin' a bit out of sorts," Sam admitted after a pause.

Frodo laughed. "Don't worry about it -Bilbo wasn't himself for about a week after we arrived. Gandalf said it was part of his healing."

Sam couldn't keep from asking, "What about you?"

Frodo cast a brief look at him before answering slowly, "Passing through the veil was different for me. I did not have the years to shed as you and Bilbo did." Gesturing to a path on their right, he directed Sam to go that way, and soon Sam set eyes on a small Bag End-looking smial, delved into a hill rising amidst the trees. "The elves allowed Bilbo and me to direct them in building it," Frodo explained with some pride. "It connects to Elrond's home at the back."

Once inside, Sam could tell the difference between the home he left behind and the hole now before him, but the divergence was slight and mostly atmospheric. It was so very quiet. Frodo led him down the hall a bit while he curiously peered into each room as they passed until Frodo stopped in front of an open bedroom door.

Unlike the other rooms so far, this one appeared undisturbed and untouched, like no one lived in it. Frodo anticipated his question. "It's yours. We had them build it in case you ever came."

Sam gaped at him and blushed deeply. "I thought you said you weren't sure I'd come."

Frodo shrugged. "I wasn't sure, no. But I hoped . . ." He blushed, and shifted uneasily. After a few awkward moments, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, if you'd like to rest before seeing Bilbo and Gandalf, they won't mind. I will wake you in time to dress for the feast."

"Dress?" Sam said blankly.

Frodo went to the wardrobe and opened it, displaying clothes hanging within. "These are yours, as well. Now that you're here, the clothes masters would be pleased to make you more."

"This is all . . . quite overwhelming," Sam said hesitantly, peering over Frodo's shoulder at the clothing.

Frodo patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You have time to adjust, don't worry," he said with a smile. "You do look exhausted. Sleep for a while; I'll wake you for dinner."

"Yes, that sounds good," Sam said, going over to the bed and sinking down onto it.

Frodo closed the wardrobe door and went to the doorway. "Sweet dreams," he said, and closed the door behind him.

Sam sat for a moment, his mind a whirl of new sights, impressions, and most of all, Frodo's voice, his touch . . . it had been so long, but he looked the same as ever. It was comforting to have that constant in this new place of unknowns. He laid down in his clothes and let himself rest.

Frodo hovered outside Sam's closed door for several minutes, inwardly reproving himself for the things he didn't say, the things he could've said differently . . . at the very least he should have offered the poor hobbit some water or a snack! But now that he left him to sleep, he didn't want to disturb him until it was time. Frodo closed his eyes, and pictured Sam as he came off the ship; uncertain, but holding himself more confidently than he ever had before Frodo left, and looking a little older than he'd remembered, still very Sam but also more distinguished. Frodo smiled and could just imagine Sam as the well-respected mayor, the stern father of many children. He sighed, and went to find Bilbo.

Frodo woke Sam an hour before the feast was set to begin and helped Sam choose what to wear. Sam noticed that Frodo had changed from the simple hobbity outfit he wore at the harbor to a more formal-looking set of trousers and a tunic that was somewhat form-fitting around the torso but was cut more generously past the waist; it went partway up the neck, had long sleeves, and ended at his knees. Sam quickly washed his face and neck before beginning to change.

Frodo turned his back as Sam dressed, facing him again only when Sam said he was ready. He smiled, and said, "That fits you quite well. You look very good, Sam."

"It feels a mite odd, but it's well made," Sam replied, fidgeting and fussing with the tunic in front of the mirror.

Frodo smoothed the fabric at his shoulders and gave him a pat. "Just leave it, it's not going anywhere." He paused, regarding Sam seriously in the mirror. "Do you mind if I ask you a question about Rosie?"

"That depends on the question, I suppose," Sam said uncertainly.

"When did she die?"

"How -how did you know she died?"

"I knew you wouldn't leave Middle-Earth unless she already had," Frodo said solemnly.

Sam had to admit Frodo had a point. "Midsummer," he said in answer to Frodo's question, ducking his head so Frodo wouldn't see in the mirror that tears rose in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry," Frodo said, distressed, and came around Sam to envelop him in a hug. "I know Bilbo will ask you about the children, but I had to know about Rosie."

"I know you cared about her, too, in your own way." Sam returned the embrace and they stood silently, wrapped in each other's arms.

At length Frodo stepped back. "Are you ready to face Bilbo and Gandalf?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Sam said, grinning.

Frodo led him out through the back hall of the smial that opened into a much bigger hall in a house that resembled the buildings of Rivendell. "There is a sitting room right here that we use when entertaining Big Folk," he said, opening a door and ushering him into a cozy room with couches and chairs of various sizes arranged around the edges of the room, with a fireplace on one wall. Bilbo and Gandalf were seated facing the door, and both rose to greet Sam.

Sam stared in wonder at Bilbo, who looked the same as he had at the Party. "Bless me, Mr. Bilbo, it's like seeing a memory," Sam said as Bilbo hugged him and enthused about how good it was to see him.

Bilbo chuckled. "You look a mite older than I remember you, lad, but I imagine you looked far older before getting here!"

"Aye, that much is true," Sam admitted, and, smiling, turned to Gandalf, who had knelt next to Bilbo. "You, at least, haven't changed."

The wizard laughed and embraced him. "I have kept this form, yes, Samwise. It is good to see you looking so happy and well."

As Frodo predicted, Bilbo eagerly asked Sam about his family and what he'd been up to as soon as they were all seated. Sam replied briefly about his thirteen children and being elected Mayor six times. Bilbo marveled and persisted in asking for details until Frodo intervened, laughing. "Bilbo, you'll have plenty of time to ask all the questions you like, so for goodness' sake, let him have a moment's peace! Besides, we ought to go or we'll be late to the feast."

"The elves don't abide by strict times, and you know it," Bilbo chided, but rose and straightened his clothing.

"I know, but I do, and Sam would no doubt appreciate eating something sooner rather than later."

"It wouldn't go amiss, and that's a fact," Sam confirmed as he followed Frodo out the door. Gandalf and Bilbo went ahead while Frodo walked with Sam and explained the feast was being held in an area much like the Party Field in Hobbiton.

The shadows cast by trees and homes were growing long when they left Elrond's house through a side door and joined a veritable river of elves heading inland. Sam tried to pay attention to his surroundings to start learning his way around this new city but he couldn't always see well enough through the crowd and they made several turns, so he soon lost track.

They reached a clearing of sorts and the crowd dispersed into various groves where tables, couches, and pillows were scattered. The primary food tables were in the middle of the clearing, with a large roasting pit boasting a number of small animals that Sam didn't recognize on spits. Gandalf led the hobbits to where Elrond's household had gathered on one side of the clearing. Lord Elrond greeted them, a beautiful, smiling woman who looked eerily like Arwen at his side. "Lord Elrond, my lady," Sam said respectfully, bowing.

"Master Samwise Gamgee, this is my wife, Celebrian," Elrond said to introduce them.

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Celebrian," Sam said, bowing again.

"I am pleased to finally meet you as well, Samwise," she said, smiling. "My husband and parents have had much to say about you. All good, of course."

"Well, now, I don't know about that," Sam said, blushing.

"Ada and Aman are away, or they would be here as well," Celebrian said. "If you would like, I will have them come to our home when they return."

Frodo leaned over and whispered in Sam's ear, "Her parents are Celeborn and Lady Galadriel." Sam nodded in understanding; the mentions of her parents made sense now.

"Ah, yes, that would be nice," Sam said awkwardly. He felt discomfited around her, much like how he felt around Arwen.

Frodo touched Sam's arm and said, "Please excuse us, Lady Celebrian, but I believe Sam could use some of that food that smells so delicious."

She laughed merrily. "Of course! Please, sit down, and I will have food brought to you."

True to her word, elves appeared with heaped plates as soon as he and Frodo sat down, and more food appeared whenever he managed to clear an empty space on his plate. Wine was similarly in abundance, and Sam soon felt full and just a little woozy, for this Elvish stuff was far stronger than Shire ale. After the eating had gone on for a while, the singing and poetry began. Mr. Bilbo stood up and recited something in Elvish, so Sam couldn't understand the words, but he closed his eyes and listened.

Over the course of the evening, Frodo found his eyes constantly strayed to Sam, absorbing his features, his reactions, his interactions with the elves that periodically came to welcome him and ask if he needed anything they could bring. It was so very good to see him again, to know that they had many years here together before facing that one last separation. And if he had his way . . . no, he wouldn't think on it.

As the music continued, Sam found his eyes constantly strayed to Frodo, drinking in that dear face, unchanged from his memory, but with a much lighter heart. He seemed happy to be here and happy that Sam was here, too. He had wondered for many long years whether Frodo's departure would provide the healing he needed; the answer was sitting next to him, grinning at something Bilbo said.

With each of them surreptitiously watching the other, it was only a matter of time before their eyes met and they each turned away, blushing. Sam wasn't sure how much time had passed, but after a while he had to smother a yawn. Frodo noticed and chuckled. "If you're tired, Sam, I can lead you back."

Sam tried to deny his exhaustion, but another yawn answered for him. Frodo laughed then and stood up from his chair. "Come along, then." Sam rose unsteadily and nearly tripped while trying to maneuver around his chair. "That wine is strong, isn't it?" Frodo said in commiseration, catching his arm and guiding him through the clearing and its many obstacles.

Sam was better on his feet on the relatively smooth path and walked alongside Frodo without issue. He didn't even try to learn the landmarks on the way back, for his mind was too fuzzy to remember anything clearly enough to be useful. Frodo chatted aimlessly about the city, not expecting Sam to remember any of it but wanting to relieve Sam of any need to participate in conversation.

Frodo almost lost Sam when he stopped to open the gate to the hole and Sam kept going down the street. He had to go grab Sam's arm and tug him in the right direction before Sam noticed that they had arrived. Sam was just that tired and confused from the wine, though he really didn't think he'd drunk that much! He was able, at least, to make his way down the straight hallway and guess correctly which room was his. Frodo followed him, pulled a nightshirt out for him from the wardrobe, and turned down the bed. Sam had a bit of trouble getting out of the strange tunic, so Frodo helped him peel it off and he hung it up while Sam finished getting into his nightshirt.

When Sam was ready, he sagged onto the bed, yawning fiercely. Frodo thought of something and left briefly, returning with a pitcher of water and a cup. "The best remedy to the wine is water and sleep," he said, setting the pitcher within easy reach of the bed. Frodo stood there in front of Sam, seemingly uncertain about what to do or say next. "I really am very glad you came, Sam," he said softly, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam looked up at him and smiled. "So am I."

"When I left-" Frodo began, then shook his head. "No, I shouldn't bring that up now."

Sam looked at him searchingly. "Bring what up?" He clasped Frodo's anxiously fidgeting hands in his own. "You can tell your Sam anything. I ain't so far gone as all that."

Frodo sighed and looked down at their hands, then gently pulled his free. "When I left, I kissed you like this." He placed his hands on either side of Sam's face and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. He pulled back, but continued cradling Sam's face and said softly, "I wanted to kiss you like this." Frodo paused as if to gather his courage, then kissed Sam's lips briefly. He stood and let go of Sam, then turned to leave the room.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam said, confused why Frodo would say something like that and just leave.

"No, don't say anything now. I don't want it to seem like I took advantage of you being tired and a little drunk. Like I said, I shouldn't have brought it up now, with you not even having been here a full day yet," Frodo said from the doorway. "Good night, Sam. Pleasant dreams."

"Good night, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, and the door closed firmly. Sam sat in stunned silence as thoughts and feelings he'd had long ago for Frodo suddenly sprang forth with new life. He blew out the candle and lay down, smirking. Pleasant dreams, indeed!

Frodo stood with a hand on the door for many long moments. Somehow he wasn't sorry he had done that, even though he knew he should have given Sam at least a couple of days to adjust to life here before bringing up what their relationship might be. Dare he hope that Sam was receptive? His heart was going to hope so, no matter what his mind had to say on the matter.


End file.
